Meet You There
by Ethidda
Summary: A one-shot song fic. Told from Draco's POV at Hermione and Ron's marriage ceremony. Only, Draco had always been in love with Hermione.


Harry Potter, not mine

**Meet You There**

By Ethidda

_Now you're gone_

Draco stepped inside from the rain. It was a large room, much brighter than the storm covered sky outside. Flowers and people were everywhere, cheering, spilling wine. Being happy.

He almost wondered where a Weaseley would get that much money. Then, again, Potter was rich. And the Grangers, although they were just muggles.

Just one look, he promised himself, searching through the sea of faces for that bushy-haired, buck-teethed bride. Except, of course, her hair was now smooth as silk and her teeth were straight and white and perfect.

But Draco still liked thought of thinking of Hermione as bushy-haired, buck-teethed.

There had been something very sweet about meeting a person like that.

He guessed meeting was all it ever was going to be.

_I wonder why you left me here_

_I think about it on and on again_

He had never hated Hermione. Not really. Oh, he had disliked her, but only because she was so smart, and so willing to let Potter and Weaseley take the credit.

They had even had to partner up once, in arithmancy, and they had turned in excellent work.

Draco smiled a little at that.

For whole two months, they were forced to be together. He had had to leave Crabbe and Goyle while she stayed away from Potter and Weaseley. Since she was so anxious about the school work, they had met regularly, two or three times a day.

He discovered that she was uninhibited when it came to knowledge and curiosity. That she was really quite spirited. Smart, too. And witty.

Nice, even.

He supposed that there were a lot of things he learned from the mud blood. She was certainly determined at times, and chiding, almost reminding him of a sister or a mother he had never had.

But he didn't want a sister or a mother.

_I know you're never coming back_

_But I hope that you can hear me_

Still, despite popular opinion, he had some morals. And he knew about his family. So he just let her be herself.

Always talking about Ron.

Ron, Ron, and Ron.

How Ron didn't do his homework. How Ron didn't study for his test. How Ron played another unappreciative joke on his family. How he broke another rule. Needed more help in tutoring.

Draco couldn't understand how she made Ron's faults sound so endearing. Faults were faults and they needed to be corrected. But listening to Hermione, Draco could almost believe that a person didn't need to be perfect to survive.

In those two months - and sometime after - he would have killed to be Ron. But even killing wouldn't make him Ron.

Because Ron was Ron and Draco was Draco.

Ron was poor. Draco was rich.

Ron had fiery red hair. Draco had a pale, platinum blond.

Ron had six siblings. Draco had none.

Ron's family worked for a traitorous Ministry of Magic. Draco's family was a family of loyal deatheaters.

Ron loved Potter. Draco hated Potter.

Ron was in Griffyndor. Draco was in Slytherin.

He supposed that that was that and there was no help for it. Even when Pansy Parkinson clung all over him at the Christmas dance and Parvati gossiped about how good looking he was underneath the clothes, he supposed there had never been any hope for it.

Now, he was just coming for one look.

_I'm waiting to hear from you_

_Until I do_

At the heart of the crowd, was the new Mrs. Weaseley, tossing her sleek brown hair and accepting hearty congratulations.

It would be on the paper the next day. Something like: _Meant to be, The couple that grew up together around the Boy Who Lived._ He certainly hoped it was something like that. Anything else, and he might just be tempted to hurt someone. The reporter.

Or the couple.

Ah, how he had anonymously supported Hermione financially years and years ago for some of her higher level education. And she had gotten a full scholarship, being as smart as she was.

"What are you going to do with all that money?" A reporter once asked her, and it had been written down on the newspaper as well.

"Hmm, I don't know," Hermione had answered. "A good cause, maybe. Like helping those who Voldemort had hurt so badly. Or little children in Africa. Or magical children stuck in unsupportive muggle families."

"Nothing specific?" The reporter had pressed.

"Not really," she had answered, then confided, "except that I'm setting a part aside for my wedding."

"To whom?"

"I'm hoping he'll ask soon."

_You're gone away_

_I'm left alone_

_A part of me is gone_

_And I'm not moving on_

_So wait for me_

_I know the day will come_

Just another look, Draco promised himself, as he stared at Hermione, laughing happily at the wedding.

She was beautiful now, he supposed. After her famed magical makeover, which had also been written about, there wasn't a fault he could find about her.

Inside or out.

_I'll meet you there_

_No matter where life takes me to_

_I'll meet you there_

_And even if I need you here_

_I'll meet you there_

_I wish I could have told you _

_The words I kept inside_

_But now I guess it's just too late_

_So many things_

_Remind me of you_

_I hope that you can hear me_

_I miss you_

_This is goodbye_

_One last time_

_And where I go you'll be there with me_

_Forever you'll be right here with me_

_I'll meet you there_

_No matter where life takes me_

_I'll meet you there_

_And even if I need you_

_I'll meet you there_

_ end_

Tell me how I did... review please._   
_


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